


Memories of Midwinter

by riventhorn



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-14
Updated: 2012-10-14
Packaged: 2017-11-16 07:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/536767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/riventhorn/pseuds/riventhorn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spoilers for 5.02!!!!</p>
<p>The night after they have been captured, Merlin wraps Arthur's hands to protect them. Otherwise known as "I found the red cloth wrapped around Arthur's hands so hot I had to write fic about it."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Memories of Midwinter

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: no copyright infringement intended; no profit is being made from this

The stars seemed brighter and closer here in the frozen North, Arthur thought, looking up at the sky. In Camelot, they hovered so far out of reach, softened by the warmer air and the hearth-fires of home. 

Only one other night could he remember them being this brilliant. It had been a midwinter feast, and the hall had been warm and close, the scents of venison and mulled wine and roasted pork jostling each other under the rafters. His father had leaned on one elbow and told him something about the council on the morrow. Filled with wine and still licking the taste of a honeyed pear from his fingers, he had tumbled out into the courtyard, out into the cold air with Merlin close behind him. Merlin had shivered and tugged at his arm, complaining, and Arthur had looked up at stars so bright that he almost thought to reach up and pluck one from the sky. 

Now, Merlin pressed against his side, shaking from the cold. His head rested on Arthur’s shoulder, but Arthur did not think he was asleep. It was too cold to sleep.

His wrists burned from the rope, his shoulders aching after being dragged behind the cart all day. He missed Gwen and Camelot. And he didn’t want to meet Morgana again. Every time he thought of her an old, sick fear swept through him. The same fear that had driven him as a child to cling closely to his father until Uther scolded him sharply. A fear that he would do something wrong and lose his father’s love. 

It shouldn’t trouble him, given that he had already lost his sister. But the fear still mastered him whenever he thought of her. 

So he turned to Merlin, giving him a soft nudge. “I have a plan,” he whispered. “Tomorrow we’ll escape.” 

Merlin stirred. “And we’ll go back to Camelot?” 

He held his silence, letting Merlin sense his disapproval of that idea.

Merlin sighed. “Let me see your hands.”

“Why?” 

“You need to protect them. In this cold, they could freeze to the hilt of your sword.”

Arthur realized that Merlin had taken off his neckerchief and was tearing off a thin strip. “Merlin,” he began because neither of them could spare what little protection from the cold they possessed.

But Merlin fumbled for his hands, clumsier than ever with his wrists still bound. Carefully, he wrapped the cloth around Arthur’s palm, huddling close so that he could see what he was doing.

“There,” he murmured after a few moments of struggling with the knots. He stroked his fingers along Arthur’s palm.

Arthur enfolded Merlin’s hand in his own. A little warmth found its way into his numb fingers.

Merlin bent closer and kissed his thumb, then his knuckles, then his palm. A precious glimmer of heat lingered for a moment wherever his mouth touched. Arthur thought of that other night of cold and stars and how grateful he was that he had never had to be afraid with Merlin.


End file.
